


Rachel's Recruitment

by DoctorDee



Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: AU, Prequel, Robbery, fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorDee/pseuds/DoctorDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Rachel Lindt joined the Undersiders</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rachel's Recruitment

I come through the glass door of the convenience store, Brutus, Judas, and Angelica trailing behind me. The Asian clerk looks up from his magazine, his face paling as he sees me and my dogs. Otherwise, the store is empty, just the ugly white lighting reflecting off the tile floor.

“Judas, guard.” I’d run out of food and water this morning, and had to wait until dark to get some more. It was always a risk doing this, but hanging around the back alleys looking for scraps was an even worse gamble. I grab one of the red baskets and head back to the food, looking for cans and bottles. Brutus and Angelica follow me, their hulking forms the size of shopping carts, while Judas sits and stares at the clerk. He’s shaking, his eyes wide, means he recognizes me. Good. There’s no room to mess up fear unlike smiles.

I sweep food into the basket and my backpack, keeping an eye on the dogs for warning signs of a siren. Nothing happens by the time I get all the food, water, and medicine I want, so I don’t need to hurt the clerk for calling the cops. Before leaving, I hit the cash register, and scoop out the tray, pouring into my backpack. That will be good for the stuff that’s kept behind locked cabinet doors.

Whistling for Judas, I leave the shop, my dogs on my heels. I only arrived in this city recently, so it takes me a bit to find the building I left the rest of my dogs in. The docks may smell like dead fish, but at least there’s no one else left on the entire block. As I walk up to the door, I smile as the dogs start barking as they smell me. They may not be trained enough to be let out on the hunt, but they still love me. My smile turns into a scowl as I get closer to the door. There’s a sheet of paper nailed to it. There is a drawing of a dog’s head at the top, with writing underneath. Snarling, I rip the paper down, ball it up, and throw it away. Some bastards must have figured out I was here. Time to leave then, find somewhere on the other edge of town to hole up in.

Walking in, I whistle up the dogs and get them ready to go. It only takes a moment to grab my stuff, another jacket, some medicine for the dogs, and a few other things. I also take the time to buff Judas up. It will be a long ride, probably.

As the pack leaves the warehouse, the smaller dogs in front come to a halt. There’s a man standing ten yards down the street. He has black leather clothing, with a skull painted onto his motorcycle helmet. There’s black smoke coming off him. _Why didn’t any of them smell or hear him?_ I kick Judas’s sides, and he bulls through the pack. The man raises his hands, level with his head.

“Whoa, not looking for a fight here. I want to talk with you.”

“Fuck off, I’m not interested. Beat it.” Is this the fucker who put that letter on the door? Can’t let him follow me. That smoke might mean he’s a teleporter.

“Listen, Bitch, my name’s Grue and-“ _Fucking bastard, doesn’t want to listen, huh?_

“I said, fuck off! Judas, attack!” Brutus goes leaping forward up the street, howling deeply enough that I can feel him in my chest, while Brutus and Angelica keep the rest of the pack back. When we’re about ten yards away, the skull-faced bastard raises his hands, and oily smoke comes pouring out of his frame. I can’t stop Judas in time, and we come barreling into the cloud.

Judas slows to a halt once we’re inside. It’s damn weird, I can’t see my hand, can’t smell Judas’s scent of blood and sick/sweet meat, and I can barely hear my own breathing. The reflexive breath I take before clamping my mouth shut doesn’t make me cough or choke, but there’s no reason to see if it works slow. I spur Judas onwards, but before he really starts moving, he flinches to the side, there’s a burst of movement coming out of the cloud to my left, and then I’m seeing stars.

I fall of Judas, with a heavy weight landing on top of me, driving my breath out of my lungs. _That damned biker blindsided me and knocked me off!_ I push up, and he rolls off me, and the smoke starts to dispel. I try and climb to my feet, but he kicks me in the stomach with his boot. The breath is driven out of me in a _whoomph_ , and he gets behind me, and puts me in a chokehold with my face maybe six inches above the curb. He doesn’t cut off my air, but it wouldn’t take much for him to do it. I see Judas turn around and start snarling. I try and throw him off, but he weighs more than me, and that leather would turn the knife on my belt at least enough for him to hit my head against the pavement.

“Bitch, I want you on my team! I’m willing to pay you good money!” That gets my attention. It’s a rare week when I have more than a hundred dollars or so. _No reason for him to lie when he’s holding all the cards._

“You attacked me and my dogs,” I snarl. “You hang shit on my door. What makes you think I want to work with you?” It would be easier if he can’t give me a good answer. Just have my pack savage him and leave. Won’t have to really decide anything.

“My darkness doesn’t hurt anything. Your dogs would be fine if they go in. And I put that letter on the door so you would know to expect me. Listen, I’m willing to give you two thousand dollars if you join. You’ll get more when we do jobs,” _Cocksucker, thinks that he has all the answers. And what kind of name is “Grue” anyway?_ _Still, two thousand would let me take care of a lot more dogs. Let me get stuff I can’t just take. Can’t give in too easy, though._

“Let me up. And take off your mask. I want to see what I’m working with.” He hesitates for a minute, but he lets me go, grabbing my knife as he does so. He quickly shifts around to put me in between him and my pack, but then he reaches up, and unhooks his helmet. He’s just some black guy, my age about, with some stupid-looking hair.

Looking him in the eyes, he doesn’t flinch or look away, just stares right back at me. _Well, fair enough, if he’s the one in charge._

“So, what’s this group called?”


End file.
